


And All Manner of Thing Shall Be Well

by highfantastical



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfantastical/pseuds/highfantastical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh, after <i>Evidence of Things Not Seen.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	And All Manner of Thing Shall Be Well

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for, in particular, _Evidence of Things Not Seen_, _ItSoTG_ and _Noël_.

It's so quiet in the West Wing now – usually, even if he's in an empty room, there's still the humming of computers, the buzz of voices, either far away or purposely lowered, they just don't do silence here. Has he ever stayed so late, so lonely? There's usually some sort of emergency, at least one group of people has to hang around, cancel their dates, forget about leaving early to watch their kid in Little League. Loneliness – at least in the sense of there not being other people around – has maybe become something of a precious commodity. And for Josh, even more so, because Donna is always there with water and a cellphone, she is always so kind to him. He has sent her away. He's a reasonable guy, doesn't usually make his assistant stay past one a.m., and now it's getting on for three. He's tried standing against the wall a few times. The wall was cold. Walls tend to do that.

His feet move, that's the kind of thing you don't unlearn. Actually, he's really okay right now – he hasn't had a flashback, he's a little stressed, a little twitchy, but probably no worse than any of the others. Maybe better. He thinks CJ will probably try to call her father tonight, _just to talk_, she'll say, _no, nothing's happened_; she won't cry because then her eyes would be red in the morning, and none of them would believe it was lack of sleep, they've all seen CJ first thing in the morning on Air Force One, she's as elegant at five in the morning on no sleep as most women are after three hours prinking. He could call – he could call Sam. _Hey. No, I'm okay. I guess you saw it on CNN? I just – wanted to talk to you. _It's not so late in California.

He's walked round Operations, like, twenty times now. If Toby hadn't gone home they could've maybe gone for a beer. Toby and Leo had come and pulled him out of the meeting with Quincy as soon as they got out of the Oval. He would've liked to go for a beer, or even just sit in a room with Leo and work like they had at Christmas. Something really low key, without anyone fussing about calling Stanley and was he okay and come get me if you need anything, Josh, anything at all.

Now he has this perverse urge to go out and get incredibly drunk. Most places will be closed by now but not everywhere, he knows where to go – it's the kind of thing you learn working in government, he thinks, and almost laughs out loud because he knows Sam wouldn't agree with him, and neither would the president. Josh never knew much Latin and he can't remember a suitable tag right now. His head's surprisingly quiet, considering – the music died away pretty quickly; it's just an echo at the fringes of his mind, faint as a ghost. He wants to push himself, do stupid things now, prove that nothing worse is coming – he's okay, fine, he can go out and chug six beers one after the other, he can go into a bar where they have music playing, he can walk in the wind through one of the rougher areas and he'll hear sirens that are really there, and everything will be okay.

He walks out through the lobby, smiles at the agents even though it feels totally fake, even though they won't make eye contact. He wonders if they've been told not to, if maybe this detail needs special skills of undistractability, what with all the terrorists trying to sneak in, or if it's just because it's him – he isn't paranoid or anything, it's half a joke even when he says it to himself: _they can't have failed to notice I don't exactly act as a good luck charm. _

Now he isn't really going to the bar, or up to Anacostia. He'd just get alcohol poisoning, or maybe mugged – _you have to be more careful, Mr Lyman. You can't pretend it didn't happen, your body isn't going to just snap back to normal. Try to get some more rest, eat properly, that kind of thing._ He does walk home though. Just really slowly, really quietly, because he can't face hailing a cab. When he gets back he doesn't listen to the messages on his answering machine because it's probably his mom and then he'll have to feel guilty for not calling her, and he doesn't eat because if he does it seems quite likely that he might get sick, he's so tired, that's all it is, and he really just wants to go to sleep.

He brushes his teeth and has a pee, holds onto the wall on his way to the bedroom and lies down very carefully, very still. He's already put out the lights but the drapes aren't closed and he can already see faint greyness on the horizon. His chest aches, but he doesn't know if it's real. It's a pity they didn't get to do the egg thing, and laugh at CJ. How does the egg feel when the hand that is holding it just moves away and there is air all over? Somebody – somewhere – is locked and loaded. His chest aches, so he tries breathing deeply, counting eggs falling off a wall, and somehow – at some point – he sleeps.

It's bright in the room when he wakes and for a moment he feels panic prickle all over him – he never wakes up in the light, so something must have happened. His alarm is never set for later than five, and Donna possesses an alarming sixth sense about when he's forgotten to set it or just slept through it – she can always be relied upon to call and keep calling until he snarls back at her down the line. He calls her and she says, _Leo came by, he said to leave you alone._ It's after ten. He goes into the kitchen to make coffee – not much point in rushing, if Leo doesn't want him there, and he should probably take a shower and shave before he goes back in. It's somehow become very important that he should look absolutely as usual. There are going to be new things today, and he has to deal with them, and he can do that. He's still kind of tired, though. He's been asleep so long, and things still aren't quiet.


End file.
